CHAPTER 213: CHAPTER 213: DEALING WITH LEFTOVERS (1)

The first pale light of morning crept through the edges of the curtains, softening the shadows across the suite. The manor beyond was still, caught in that brief hush before servants stirred and day began in earnest.

Trevor woke quietly, not with a start but with that instinctive pull toward wakefulness honed over years. For a long moment he didn’t move, only let his eyes adjust to the soft grey glow.

Beside him, Lucas lay turned slightly toward him, still deep in sleep. The blanket had slipped low on his chest, his robe discarded somewhere in the night, leaving the gentle rise and fall of his breathing visible. Ash‑blond hair spilled in loose strands across the pillow, catching the faint morning light like threads of silver and gold.

Trevor shifted onto an elbow, careful not to disturb him. He let himself look.

Those lashes, long, fine, cast soft shadows over skin that carried no trace of the last day’s strain. His lips were parted just slightly, breath warm and even. And beneath that calm exterior, Trevor could feel the quiet thrum of Lucas’s presence, the bond between them subtle but undeniable, woven deep now in a way that words couldn’t undo.

His husband. In every way that mattered.

Trevor reached out without thinking, brushing the edge of Lucas’s hair back from his brow with the lightest touch of his fingers. Lucas didn’t stir, only let out a small sigh, lashes fluttering but not opening.

Trevor’s mouth curved faintly. There was power in this, this simple act of watching, of knowing that all the walls Lucas built for the world dropped here, in this room, between them.

He let his hand rest against the pillow near Lucas’s shoulder, leaning down just enough that his breath stirred that soft hair. "You’ll sleep through an earthquake," Trevor murmured, quiet enough to be meant only for himself.

For another long minute, he simply stayed there, drinking in the sight, before easing back against the headboard, careful not to wake him, content for now to watch the morning stretch itself gently over the man who had become his whole world.

—

Trevor swung his legs over the side of the bed, the faint light of morning stretching across the guest chamber in thin, uneven lines. The manor felt different now, quieter, drained, its halls holding the aftertaste of the ceremony that had consumed everyone only yesterday.

He sat for a moment, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand over his face as if to wipe away the remnants of formality still clinging to him. Then he rose, bare feet sinking into the rug before touching the cool wood floor, and padded into the adjoining bathroom.

The water ran with a low hiss, cold and bracing against his skin. He stared into the mirror, studying the shadows under his eyes and the faint tension lingering in his jaw from the long hours of smiling, speaking and enduring stares. It was done now, the ceremony, the endless procession of nobles, the weight of expectations. Done, but not over. There were always pieces to pick up.

When he returned to the bedroom, he crossed to the wardrobe that had been prepared for their stay. The garments for yesterday’s formalities still hung there, rich fabrics and precise tailoring, untouched now, like costumes from a finished play. He passed them by and instead chose something simple: a soft white shirt, a dark grey vest, and trousers that wouldn’t catch the eye.

He dressed quickly, fingers deftly fastening buttons, smoothing sleeves. A plain leather belt, polished shoes, and a silver watch. He closed the wardrobe with a muted click and stood for a moment, letting the stillness settle around him.

Outside, the manor had quieted. The staff moved softly, voices hushed after the strain of yesterday’s spectacle. Trevor descended the staircase, steps even and measured, his mind already shifting to what needed to be done now that the stage had cleared.

Jason Luna was waiting for him, still a problem, still a man who thought he could meddle without consequence. Trevor adjusted his cuffs as he reached the last step, his expression calm and cold.

—

Trevor stepped into the cooler corridor beyond the guest wing, the early light threading through high windows and spilling across the polished floor. The manor still carried the aftertaste of the previous day’s celebration, faint traces of perfume in the drapes, and the distant echo of laughter that seemed caught in the walls. But now it was quiet, properly quiet, the kind that made every footstep sound deliberate.

He took the back route down toward the old carriage house, rolling his cuffs as he walked, the steady rhythm of his thoughts matching his even pace. Jason Luna. A thorn worth plucking.

The guards at the holding area straightened the moment they saw him, but Trevor gave them only a small nod as he stepped past. He was already reaching for the door when a familiar voice drawled from somewhere to his left.

"You look far too serious for this early in the morning."

Trevor turned, a grin breaking across his face despite himself. Dax was leaning against the low stone wall that bordered the path, dressed in dark clothes with his coat unbuttoned, posture loose and easy, like a man enjoying a casual morning instead of plotting his next move. The light caught on his signet ring as he shifted, violet eyes bright with amusement.

Trevor folded his arms, standing there in the cool air, smirking. "And you look far too smug for someone who spent the night abducting strangers off buses."

Dax’s smile widened. "Abducting? Please. I rescued him. I’m a gracious king, remember?"

Trevor barked a soft laugh, shaking his head as he folded his arms. "Rescue, right. That’s what we’re calling it now."

Dax pushed off the wall with an easy motion, closing the distance by a few lazy steps. His voice slipped into that familiar, teasing cadence they’d shared since long before titles separated them. "You should be pleased. I won’t have time to bribe Lucas with pastries anymore." A pause, a crooked grin. "Or are you secretly disappointed you won’t get to watch Serathine and Cressida sharpening their claws on me?"

Trevor’s smirk deepened. "Oh, don’t worry, those two don’t need you as an excuse. They’ll find new prey soon enough."

Dax laughed quietly, tucking his hands into his coat pockets, the morning light catching in his violet eyes. "Still. Admit it. You enjoyed watching me try to talk my way out while they rearranged my entire life in front of half the court."

Trevor gave a low hum, as if considering. "I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t one of the highlights of the week." He tipped his head, lips twitching. "Next time, I’ll sell tickets."

Dax grinned at that, shaking his head. "You’re insufferable."

"And you," Trevor replied easily as he adjusted his cuffs, "are still here instead of keeping an eye on your shiny new omega. That surprises me more than anything."